Once upon a time
by Megaphone.Kills.You
Summary: Once upon a time he was a prince, but he actually doesn't care about that anymore. He doesn't care about what used to be at all. Maybe he just wants to forget everything that once upon a time seemed so important. Maybe he just wants to move on.


**Another One-Shot to pass the time, this time featuring Eridan! Cod, I reelly like that hipster fish ;_;**

**What can I say, I had a pretty shitty day so far and shitty feelings inspire Eridan One-Shots.**

* * *

You don't want this.

Four years of freedom and blissful ignorance and then- _you don't want this_.

What are you doing here in the first place? Besides being awkward and ruining this little reunion of course. It's not like anyone really wants you around; you're just invited because once upon a time you joined the game and now you simply belong, as hated as you may be, like the guy in a group of friends nobody likes but is kept around for humor's sake.

You fidget with a golden ring on your ring finger as your eyes behind hip glasses restlessly scan the room, never settling long enough on certain people so that you cannot be accused of staring. God, that'd be the perfect excuse for throwing you out – or worse. (And you know now very much that it's not 'gog' and you know what or who God is and you damn Him to hell.)

Sometimes your eyes flicker to the clock and you're surprised to find that it's only two more hours until midnight. Two hours until you never have to see those people ever again. A sigh of relief. Your legs are starting to hurt from hours of standing around idly and you move to sit down on the only empty couch in the room.

Next to you, there's a small buffet and a few glasses pre-filled with liquor and you grab yourself some champagne just to have something to occupy you with. As you take a sip, you allow yourself a glance at the strangers who once upon a time were your comrades_ until you fucked up_.

A pang of guilt rings through you as you inconspicuously eye _her_. The pink skin suits her just as much as gray, but then again she always looked absolutely stunning, no matter the color of her clothes or skin. Your heart is going crazy and you curse it because it has been _years_ and this is just pathetic! Her seemingly expensive dress is surprisingly plain, all white. You can't help but see fuchsia blood splattered all over it emerging from a hole in her chest that once upon a time hope cut into her.

And she is latching on to the arm of a skinny, bespectacled nerd and your prior fluttering vascular pump suddenly pounds furiously against your ribs and you fight down the bile that rises up in your throat. She laughs at something he lisps out and while her voice is melodious, his makes your ears bleed.

Quickly you avert your gaze before murderous intentions turn this reunion into a massacre and you settle for observing the gangly guy surrounded by the most of the room's occupants. His face is free from the monochrome face paint he used to wear, but his hair is still defying the very laws of physics, which makes him seem somewhat familiar. A fashionable woman with perfect posture shoots him wary looks every once in a while and you flinch when her eyes wander over to you and her scathing glare cuts you apart all over again.

She hasn't forgiven you. You doubt anyone here does, including yourself.

You go back to watching the former clown. His hand is curled loosely around that of the kid with the Mohawk and he seems to get along with everyone just swimmingly. No one, with the exception of the classy lady and maybe the short crab (so to speak), shows any signs of contempt.

Nevermind that once upon a time he violently asphyxiated and bludgeoned two people to death. Nevermind that once upon a time he went batshit insane. Nevermind that once upon a time he intended to kill everyone and their cousin to draw creepy messages of non-existent messiahs all over the walls. Nevermind that once upon a time he decapitated his dead friends and sold their blood.

Never. fucking. mind.

They've all forgiven him for his deeds. 'He didn't really know what he was doing', 'it wasn't his fault, it was his blood , 'It was the fucking slime and the faith crisis' and other shitty excuses. Oh, they should spare you such bullshit! What he's done is much, much worse than what YOU did!

...Okay, so maybe you're a little jealous. Just a little bit, because quite frankly, you don't – or shouldn't – give a flying fuck about them anymore.

It's just bothering you how everyone can forgive their goofy friend for murdering two people for no reason whatsoever,

but nobody forgives you when you were just a confused and terrified fool, a kid who just wanted to help yet said and did all the wrong things. Once upon a time you made a mistake, but wasn't everything out of good intentions? You try to save your friends and you get laughed at, you defend yourself and you are sawed in halves? Where is the justice in that?  
You are tired of this shit.  
You are tired of always being the exception, of always being the outcast. Everything that the game has ever taught you was that others may slaughter but you may not breathe.

You can't stand this any longer. You just want to leave this all behind. You shouldn't have come here in the first place, this is all wrong.

In a matter of seconds you have dressed in your coat again, checked if your wallet is still inside the pocket (not having a sylladex makes you nervous, even after all those years) and stormed to the door. The happy reunited friends don't cease their chatter for even a goodbye.

Only one pair of eyes follows you, dark circles accentuating them. A familiar sneer etches on your face. You couldn't care less about his pity; he can shove it up his ass for all you care. You don't need pity, least of all his.

Despite this resolution, you find yourself delaying your departure by awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to another as the boy excuses himself and stomps over to you.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he snarls, barely hiding his concern behind that snarky attitude.

"Wwhat does it look like. Home of course" you reply calmly, your old wavy accent returning.

"This is against our agreement, dipshit!" he protests and tries to hold onto the sleeve of your coat yet you're too fast for him and so you're out of the door. A deep breath, and you turn back to him, leaning forward so that your watery blue eyes are on a level with his. A growl emits from the back of your throat and you hiss "Look, I never wwanted to fuckin' be here in the first place and if all you do is reminiscin' about the **_good old times_**, then count me out. I havve better 'fins' to do than wwastin' my time with a bunch a morons."

You slam the door in his face, running as fast as you can so that he can't follow you. His indignant screeches bounce off the walls in the building's hallway and ring in your ears long after you've fled the party.

Stupid boy. Once upon a time you awoke on this strange alien planet without a warning, sort of glad that you could start anew without them around. Out of all of you, you think you were the first and only one to let go of the past and move on.  
You started your new life, made new friends and pretended your skin has always been peachy and your face finless. You pretended to be human. You never wanted to return to what has been although you kinda did miss your gills and fins and your royalty. And then one day this grumpy guy showed up on your doorstep and you knew that the time of peace was over.  
Why did you invite him in? The two of you sat down on your comfy couch and then he started spilling over with words. The retelling of his tale took hours and suddenly things made sense to you. However at the same time, you wished you never heard him out as you were overwhelmed by guilt again and bitterness. And then he forced you to attend this gathering. You didn't want to. You don't want to remember.

You'll go straight home. You will move out and far away, change your phone number, maybe even your name and you'll delete all of your accounts on any websites. They'll never find and bother you again that way. They and everything that you associate with them will be far away and will be eventually forgotten. That's good. That's fine with you.

You don't want to stay in the past forever.

You don't want to be reminded how much of a failure you are.

You don't want to be reminded how alone and unwanted you are.


End file.
